


Throne of Glass prompts

by ABookAndACoffee



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Drabble, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9616994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABookAndACoffee/pseuds/ABookAndACoffee
Summary: This is a place for me to put some of the small things I've been writing, mostly based on tumblr prompts/requests. It will grow as I get requests.Chp. 1 - Rowan & Aelin are at dinner with Dorian when he tells them about a date he went on recently (prompt: They don't like dogs. It wasn't going to work out.)Chp. 2 - Manon & Elide are having a drink at an inn when they are interrupted by some rude men (prompt: don't tempt me).Chp. 3 - Rowan & Aelin have a bet going, and it doesn't turn out in her favor - gets a bit NSFW. (prompt: Just admit I'm right.)Chp. 4 - Celaena is in a bad mood while working with Nehemia on Wyrdmarks. (prompt: I just did some calculations, and I’ve been able to determine that you’re full of shit.)Chp. 5 - Rowan and Aelin make a cake. (prompt: It's a real shame no one asked for your opinion.)





	1. Dorian

Dorian was at dinner with his friends when the question he was dreading comes. 

“Dorian, how’d that dinner go yesterday,” Aelin asked casually. “With that woman you told me about. The blonde? Tall, right? Intelligent? Pretty? Not unlike yours truly?” 

Rowan brushed a hand over her thigh under the table, warning her to go easy on their friend. 

“Oh it went well enough. The food was good, the conversation was pleasant. We went to a newer restaurant, Alejandro’s,” he answered, concentrating on his food. 

Rowan cut in. “It’s a very intimate setting, I’m given to understand. I’m sure you enjoyed having a bit more _privacy_ there.” 

Aelin went on, ignoring his tone, while Dorian gave him a grateful – if resigned – look. “And what was she like? What’s her name? Are we going to get to meet her soon?” 

Dorian sighed; he could tell that Aelin was going to be a fountain of questions, but he tried to continue eating. 

She heard Rowan release a small, exasperated breath of air beside her, but she persisted. “What book was she buying? You really don’t need to be with anyone who can’t stand reading the same things as you. Or someone who reads books about, I don’t know… how to establish your very own dictatorship. Oh! I know, maybe I can loan her one of my dirty novels…” She grinned wickedly at her friend as she finally paused long enough to let him respond. 

“Well actually, that’s how we started talking. I saw her looking at some things and offered to give her some suggestions. One thing led to another, and she asked me to join her for dinner. And I don’t need you to loan any of your books to my lovers, Aelin.” 

“Wait - lovers? How did this evening end, exactly?” Aelin leaned forward in her seat, her own food completely forgotten. 

“We went home together, actually,” he admitted. He coughed and then immediately filled his mouth with food, trying his hardest to keep Aelin’s curiosity from forcing him to talk about this topic at dinner, in front of Rowan, to distract her somehow. 

“I knew it! Rowan, I told you he had a good time. I could tell.” She looked over at her husband and pushed his shoulder lightly in her excitement. Rowan pursed his lips, trying to avoid Dorian’s look. The two had grown close recently, and he didn’t want Dorian to think he’d had anything to do with gossip about his love life. 

“So, when are you going to out again? Or maybe we’ll get to meet? Oh, there is an event next week, very fancy, you could send her a dress, girls love it when you do that…” Aelin’s imagination began to take over as her voice trailed off. 

“Actually, they don’t like dogs. It isn’t going to work out,” he replied, dishing food out from the bowls on the table to refill his own plate. 

Aelin and Rowan both started, trying not to exchange a look. 

“They?” Aelin repeated. 

“Yeah. Didn’t I tell you? There were three of us, at dinner. She wasn’t alone at the bookstore, she had come with her boyfriend and they were looking for a book about gardening…” His voice trailed off as he realized that Aelin and Rowan were gaping at him. 

“Wait, Dorian. You mean to tell me that… you helped someone find a book… about gardening,” Aelin asked. She squeezed Rowan’s thigh, willing him to be silent, now. 

“Yeah… you don’t know everything about me, Aelin. I rather enjoy botany. Anyway, they were nice people, but you know I’m not a cat person. They had three.” Dorian dug into his plate, glad that he now given them as much information as they needed about his dinner the evening before. 

Rowan raised an eyebrow at Aelin and she shrugged. They all continued eating as the conversation moved on to other, more mundane topics. 


	2. Malide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manon and Elide are trying to enjoy some time together when they have a rude interruption.

Elide had been walking back to her table when the man had reached out to grab her. Normally, she would have been able to avoid him before coming anywhere near his table – recognizing predatory stares was a skill she had begrudgingly acquired over the years – but she had been carrying two drinks, and she hadn’t seen him in the crowded dining hall of the inn she and Manon had stopped at for the night. 

The staff there was unsurprisingly incompetent, forcing Elide to return to the bar asking for mugs that were at least clean-ish. And this, unfortunately, had led her to the situation she found herself in now, deciding between spilling her drinks, or letting herself be groped by a man who looked like he hadn’t washed in weeks. Although, that could be said about almost everyone there. 

With a bit of grace that surprised even herself, given her impaired movement, she maneuvered around the man and away from his grasping fingers, only to overcorrect and run into his friend who had been returning to the table. She ran straight into his chest, and looked up… and up… and up… into a hairy face and a grin missing more than a few teeth. 

Manon watched this from where she sat, ready to jump out of her seat. Her relief at watching Elide dodge the first man’s advances was quickly replaced by dread when she saw the larger man in her path. Elide’s face blanched slightly, but, luckily for the man, he kept his hand – who knows how he had lost the other one - to himself. And yet… he seemed to be saying something to her. Manon focused her energy on the two of them, trying to pick out his words from the clamor and raucous activity around them. Whatever he was saying, Elide was starting to lose her composure. Just as Manon had decided to approach the pair, Elide swerved around the giant, her pace quicker than before, despite the obvious pain crossing her face at the effort. 

When she sat back down at their table she wasn’t surprised to see Manon with a glare on her face. “What did he say to you,” she asked icily. She had made out enough of what the man had said, despite being across the room, but she wanted it confirmed. 

Elide shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t heard before. I’m used to it,” she started to say, trying to brush it off. “I don’t need you to do anything… violent.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Manon grumbled. But something glinted in her eye as soon as the words had left her mouth. She stood and stalked away from Elide, grabbing the spoon from her soup bowl without pausing as she went. 

Elide sat up straighter, confused but too curious not to follow. She stood and followed, scrambling as she tried to keep up with Manon’s easy stride. She kept her distance, not wanting to seem like she was cowering behind Manon’s back, but also wanting to know what plan she had unwittingly put into action. 

From a distance, Elide watched Manon approach both men, now seated next to each other at their table. She had a grin on her face that Elide had initially feared, until she realized it would never be turned on her. 

The man finally noticed the beautiful white-haired witch walking up to him and put his bowl down, motioning to his companions to stop talking. Manon kept a broad smile on her face, and Elide said a silent prayer for the idiot who thought there was nothing to her but that façade, knowing that Manon was wearing that expression because it amused her how easily men could be fooled. 

Elide struggled to hear what Manon was saying, but the din of the restaurant made it difficult. The men had hungry looks on their faces, no doubt prepared to share the same colorful language they had used freely with Elide. They started to talk, but Manon held up a hand. Elide watched Manon’s gestures, trying to glean something from them. She pointed back at Elide, still talking to the men while they remained silent. Their grins were slowly fading from their wizened faces. Manon held the spoon in front of herself, moving it around as she spoke as if in demonstration. 

Elide willed herself to remain still, tilting her head and blocking out all other noises, desperate to hear what Manon was saying to the men. She heard a few words or phrases here and there – things like _eyeball_ , _eternity_ , and _blunt_ – but she smiled to herself when she heard one phrase in particular – _she’s mine_. 

She backed away, trying to return to their table before Manon was conscious of her spying. 

When Manon sat back down next to her, Elide pushed her drink closer. Manon took it and couldn’t help as a small laugh escaped her. She was going to cherish the memory of those men’s faces falling. The transformation of men from predator to prey was a change she enjoyed catalyzing. 

“I heard what you said. Thank you,” Elide said. “Something about eyeballs, which I’m sure I don’t want to know anything more about.” Manon chuckled. 

“And you said I am yours.” 

When Manon didn’t respond, Elide continued. “I am, you know. Yours.” Manon looked over at Elide, tilting her head slightly. 

“And you’re mine, too.” Elide placed her hand over Manon’s where it was resting on the bench, and they remained that way in silence until they retired to their room.


	3. Rowan & Aelin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Just admit I'm right" - gets a bit NSFW towards the end.

“Just admit I’m right,” Rowan said, a shit-eating grin on his face. Aelin was holding her fists at her sides, trying her best not to turn red. 

Her focus went across the clearing to a tree and she narrowed her eyes, though she could see the truth clearly. She turned back to Rowan, then back at the tree. She shook her head, not believing what she was seeing. 

They had decided to spend the afternoon outdoors in a clearing that few others knew about – one of the refuges they enjoyed most, in addition to her library. The recent change to warmer weather had driven them to choose the former that afternoon. Rowan had to admit that he was getting cabin fever from the long winter, and the chance to spend time alone with Aelin had been enticement enough to go along with her plan. 

Aelin had so many guards and soldiers around her all the time that she felt that she was constantly running into them – literally and figuratively – but she had kept up her training, despite it having been decades since she needed to defend herself against any serious threat. She had long ago accepted that privacy was going to be optional when it came to her well-being, but sometimes the pair managed to make some time for themselves. 

Now that she and Rowan were alone, she had thought they might have a little fun. It wasn’t going according to plan, however. 

“We need to do it over,” she finally answered. “There was a breeze. Something wasn’t right. There is no way that you are a better shot than me.” She finally turned back to him, forcing herself to meet his smile. 

“I’ve been training since I was a child, there is no way…” Her voice trailed away in disbelief as she looked back at the arrows lodged in the target that Rowan had placed there. When Rowan had challenged her to see who was the better shot, she had not thought twice about it, despite what she had seen him do in the past. That was ancient history, she figured, and she had been doing this for so long… There was no way that he could be right about this. But she couldn’t pretend that the proof wasn’t there, across the clearing in front of them. 

“You’re letting yourself, go, Aelin. Maybe you need to train more often.” The smile hadn’t left Rowan’s face, and she couldn’t force herself to make eye contact with him again. She crossed her arms, her mouth turning in a decidedly downward angle. 

When she refused to answer, he started again. “We had a bet, Fireheart,” he reminded her. “But I’m willing to make a trade.” She cocked her head, not believing that he would offer her something she would accept. 

“Instead of forcing you to go without dessert for a week, I’ll take a kiss. Right now. If you admit that I’m right.” He pointed to his mouth, raising his eyebrows. He had never intended to force her to go through with her end of the deal, but he had enjoyed watching her squirm at the thought. 

She set her bow down and her posture relaxed. Aelin sauntered up to him until their chests were pressing against each other. She looked up at him, a sweet expression on her face. 

“I’ll take that trade,” she answered. She looked up at him, inviting him to meet her halfway. As he leaned down to greet her lips with his own one of her hands went to his face, fully intending to smack him rather than concede. He had anticipated her move, however, and grabbed her wrist. Pinning first one arm and then the other to her side, he watched her expression revert back to indignation. 

“Damnit, Rowan,” she growled, not sure if she was more frustrated at herself or him for being bested twice in one afternoon. He wasn’t holding her tightly, and a quick shake of her arms had them free again. 

He raised his hands in surrender. “You’re making it too easy today, Aelin.” Flustered Aelin was something he didn’t get to see often, when she was normally so full of bravado, and he was enjoying himself immensely. 

She sighed, finally melting at the grin that had never left his face, and reached towards him to pinch his waist playfully. “You’re being a real buzzard, you know that?” 

When she moved into him again, her intentions were less antagonistic. They wrapped their arms around each other and remained that way for a moment, her head against his chest, his resting on the top of hers, enjoying the peace and quiet that they didn’t get often. 

After a few minutes, Aelin looked up at him, offering her mouth in a genuine attempt to kiss him, this time. He responded immediately, clutching her closer and groaning into her mouth as their tongues met. Their hands began to wander, his hands making their way underneath her tunic, and Aelin pulled her mouth away from his. She grazed her teeth over his neck and felt his chest rumble as he growled her name. Warmth spreading through her at the familiar sound, and she grabbed his hand to find a more secluded spot than the open clearing where they were currently standing. 

As soon as she reached the tree line, she pushed him up against an oak and began to undo the laces on his pants. 

“Impatient, Fireheart,” he asked, even as his hands explored her breasts underneath her shirt before moving to unlace her pants. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and turning around to pin her against the tree. 

Afterward, he let her back down to stand, brushing away the bits of tree that had become stuck to her shirt and fallen into her hair. Fingers twining, they walked back into the clearing to gather their bows. 

As they made their way home, Rowan couldn’t help himself, as he said, “You still didn’t admit that I was right.” 


	4. Celaena & Nehemia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celaena is a bit tense while she and Nehemia are working with Wyrdmarks. Prompt: I just did some calculations, and I've been able to determine that you're full of shit"

A week into their lessons on Wyrdmarks and lore, Celaena was waiting for Nehemia to show up in her chambers to begin studying. She had woken early, and grumpily. After a run and a quick bite to eat she had returned to her chambers, still full of nervous energy. Books were one thing; Celaena would happily spend her day buried in piles of adventures, romance, or mystery. But ancient, dusty, nearly indecipherable books were another, and she was frustrated at her lack of progress. 

It wasn’t as if she had expected to figure out the meaning behind the wyrdmarks, the king’s plan, and all the rest of it overnight. Nehemia had told her that it wouldn’t be easy, even in the beginning, and Celaena’s already-strained patience was growing even thinner. If there was even a chance that more creatures like the ridderak could be summoned, for the king’s benefit, somehow… She had to stop him, and she didn’t like the feeling of standing still while trying to run, his smug, self-confident smirk watching over her shoulder. 

When Nehemia finally glided through her doorway, Celaena gave the princess a cool look. 

Cocking her head in Celaena’s direction, Nehemia greeted her friend. She looked her up and down, noting the sweat-stained clothing. “Elentiya, you didn’t need to dress up for me,” she said in a teasing tone, testing how far she could push. 

“I’ve been up for hours. Let’s get started.” After taking a book from the stack in Nehemia’s hands, Celaena slumped her body down in her chair so hard that it shifted on the wooden floor. 

So no teasing today, then. 

Nehemia took her usual seat at the end of the desk, leaving the stack where they could both reach for what they needed. They quickly got to work, Celaena copying and translating symbols while Nehemia checked her progress, nodding her head in approval or shaking her head and pointing out slight corrections. 

Celaena tapped her foot against the nearest leg of the table as she read and wrote. She knew that Nehemia was working as much as she was, more, even. The stakes were high for both of them and she cursed herself silently for taking out her frustrations on a friend who was taking the time to help her. The first friend she had had in a long time, to boot, but the nervous energy under her skin was a threat to her fortitude, today. 

“Did you ever figure out what that one set of symbols meant,” Celaena asked her friend testily. “The ones I showed you yesterday.” 

Nehemiah ran one of her braids through her fingers absently as she leaned over a book. “I’m not sure, there is another volume in my rooms that I can use, and I might be able to analyze them in conjunction and if I can better understand the context, then maybe…” she trailed off as she continued to read her own book, marking a paper as she went. 

Celaena threw her own book down in frustration. “Well, I just did some calculations, and I’ve been able to determine that you’re full of shit,” she exclaimed. 

Nehemia looked up and blinked. And blinked again. And burst out laughing. 

“Nehemia, this isn’t funny…” Celaena began, but her voice trailed until she smiled gently. Her laugh began in her stomach and worked its way up until she was louder than Nehemia. And her friend laughed all the harder for seeing her lose her control. 

“Do you need to go see your captain, Elentiya? To get some frustration out? Would he give you a good workout? I’m assuming you went running alone this morning.” There was a wicked twinkle in Nehemia’s eye and Celaena turned a shade of pink. She threw a book at the princess, making sure to throw it short so it landed in her lap. 

Nehemia burst out laughing again, clutching her stomach and wiping her eyes. Celaena just shook her head, trying to bite back a grin. She hadn’t laughed like this in so long, and she looked at the joy on her friend’s face, wondering how the princess managed to find levity even in the midst of what they were trying to do. 

A deep voice came from the doorway, Chaol clearing his throat to announce his presence. Celaena straightened immediately, the color rising to her cheeks for a different reason, now. 

He jutted his chin out towards her. “You’re needed.” 

Jumping out of her chair a bit too quickly, she nodded at him before turning back to Nehemia. The princess bit her lip, breathing heavily through her nose in an attempt to stop laughing. 

As the pair left, Nehemia called out behind them. “Celaena, I think you might be able to find what you were looking for in a broom closet, there’s one just around the corner…” Celaena shot a look at her friend, allowing horror to coat her expression with her face turned away from Chaol. 

Chaol looked between them and narrowed his eyes. “What could you possibly need in a broom closet?” He looked from one woman to the other, trying to puzzle them out even though he knew it would be hopeless. “Is there something I need to know about?” 

“Not another word or you will regret it,” Celaena said to Nehemia in Eyllwe. Nehemia just shook her head slightly, holding her hands up in a protest of innocence. 

Turning to Chaol, she said, “of course not. Let’s go.” 

As they made their way down the hall they heard Nehemia burst into laughter again, and Celaena grabbed Chaol’s arm to hurry him along.


	5. Rowaelin - It's a real shame no one asked for your opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan and Aelin make a cake.

When Aelin decided to get up in the middle of the night and make a cake, Rowan had simply turned over and thrown his pillow over his head. 

When she had come around to his side of the bed and torn the bedding off him, he knew he wasn’t getting back to sleep. 

In the last few months, she had taken it upon herself to learn how to do small things: roast a chicken, scramble eggs, boil water. She had decided that her successes at those endeavors meant that she was ready to take the leap into baking, a choice Rowan hoped she forgot every day. 

Padding into the kitchen after her, he blinked himself into more complete consciousness. She was already pulling bowls out of cabinets, bags of ingredients littered the counter, and she stood with her hands on her hips. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“I don’t know if we have enough hazelnuts,” she replied. 

At the word _hazelnuts_ , time stood still. Not hazelnuts. Anything but hazelnuts. Because if that’s what she was looking for, that could only mean one thing. 

“Aelin, princess, don’t you think you should get some sleep?” he began, trying to avoid poking the beast. 

“Of course not, I’m fine. I just really need a cake right now,” she answered. Bustling around the kitchen she cracked eggs into a bowl, then added sugar. “Can you get me the cookbook?” 

Going to the shelf that held them, Rowan held it out to her. She took it without a word and spun back around to her ingredients. 

“Aelin, I think it would be a better idea to get someone to help you with this,” he tried, remembering with horror his last experience with her cake. “Someone who knows more about baking. It’s pretty different from throwing meat in the oven. At least I assume so.” 

“It’s a real shame no one asked for your opinion,” she snapped without turning around. 

Rowan raised his hands in surrender and sat a barstool near the counter, watching her grab ingredients, throwing them into bowls with nary a care for measurements. He couldn’t help but smile, and then grimace, wondering what would happen when she mixed determination with a lack of sleep. 

“Here.” She handed him a block of chocolate. “Chop this for me. All of it.” 

“Your wish is my command. Apparently.” He took it from her, wondering again what the appeal of this cake was. Or what the appeal of sweets was, in general. 

“Aelin, why do you need cake right now? Why can’t you wait and have someone make you one in the morning?” Rowan had a knife in hand, carefully chipping away at the block until Aelin came over to retrieve what she needed. 

“I just do. I haven’t had any in a long time.” 

“Didn’t we have some at that restaurant last week?” Rowan had a genuinely confused look on his face, until he realized that was the wrong answer. 

Aelin’s nostrils flared and she turned around to the counter, stirring the chocolate into the mix. She looked at it, waiting for something. Pursing her lips, a realization came to her. She needed to melt the chocolate first. With a sigh, she glared at the batter until the bowl grew just warm enough. Satisfied, she stirred, the batter turning a deep brown that was nearly black.. 

“Fireheart, I’m going back to bed. Wake me when it’s done.” He moved to get off the stool but she held up a hand. 

“Wait.” 

He paused, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t. “Why did you get me out of bed if I’m just supposed to sit here?” 

She finished mixing the next set of ingredients and held up a chocolate batter-covered spoon. “Because I need you to try it with me, when it’s done,” she said. She strolled over to him, placing her free hand on his thigh and resting herself between his legs. 

“But you know that’s going to be a while, right? How long do cakes take to bake?” 

“Of course it’s going to be a while. But I need you to keep me company while I’m waiting.” She grinned and thrummed her fingers on his thigh. Leaning forward she kissed him without hesitation, throwing herself into it enough to let him know what she meant. A hum of approval came from deep in his chest and he held her arms, refusing to let her go quite yet. 

“You know if you had just told me that right away I would have gotten up much more willingly.” 

“Where would be the mystery in that? I need to keep you on your toes somehow.” She smiled at him again, teasing and taunting and knowing he loved every second of it. Offering the spoon to him, she cocked her head. 

Rowan shook his head. “I’ll wait until it’s done.” He released her arms. “Go. Put that cake in the oven. We’ll see how well I can entertain you.” 

When she had taken care of it - without tasting the batter, Rowan was grateful to observe - she walked over to him and threw herself into his arms, letting out a soft moan mingled with a sound of relief. If there was one thing she would never take for granted, it was the freedom with which they could sink into each other, feeling the warmth and solidity of him without wondering if she needed to hold herself back. 

Aelin pulled away, allowing them a breath. “So, what’s the plan now?” She traced one finger over his cheek. 

“You know what I want.” She nodded in satisfaction. “But I still don’t understand why you had this need for cake in the middle of the night. Let’s just ask someone to have some available at all hours-“ 

His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed, until all expression went out of his face. 

“Aelin. You’re pregnant.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: "It’s the middle of the night, what are you you doing here?" and "This had better not end up on Snapchat!"

When Elide woke, she expected to see sunlight. Instead, all she saw was darkness. 

She had gone to sleep with the usual ghosts. Her mother, comforting her. Her duty to Aelin hovering in the distance. Finding sleep amongst all of that was no easy feat. Yet she had to comply. There were parts of her life that Elide could not, would not, refuse.

The rustling that had awoken her was just enough noise to ensure that none of the guards would notice. Not that they were competent enough to have stayed awake, this time of night. Or morning. It all depended on perspective.

She recognized the prowling form around her bed instantly.

Lorcan. He had come to see her, again. Months had passed like this, covertly. Elide knew that there was something daring in his coming to see her like this. And yet... there was also something forbidden. 

Taboo. 

Elide shivered with the clandestine aspect of it all.

“It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?” Elide hissed. She had her suspicions, of course. But she would never take for granted that the fiercest member of the Cadre, the warrior centuries old, would choose to come to her for this. 

“I want it,” Lorcan said.

This unnamed need. Something they both wanted, but would refuse to name outside of these walls.

“Why?”

“My reputation,” he answered. 

Elide nodded, acquiescing. She lifted the sheets that covered her shivering frame.

Lorcan slid into the bed, underneath the covers, knowing that what would happen there on Elide’s bed would never be known beyond those walls. 

“Do you want to be the big spoon, or the little spoon?” Elide asked. 

And there it was. The question that laid their roles bare.

“The big spoon,” Lorcan answered, hesitating. “If that’s ok with you.”

They settled into their positions. Lorcan’s arms wrapped around her, not daring to drift into the more intimate parts of her. All he needed was comfort. 

“This had better not end up on Snapchat,” he said, settling in. 

Elide pulled the down comforter around them both.

“Never.”

That wasn’t part of the deal. What passed between them in the middle of the night was no one else’s business. It made sense for Lorcan to be the big spoon, but the asking... oh, the asking was the real crux of the situation. The moment that Elide had the ability to choose, to decide who would play which role. 

“Sleep,” she commanded. 

And with gratitude, Lorcan complied.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Do you think I’d get in trouble if I kick that person?” “Just don’t.” For elorcan!

Elide shoved food into her mouth, eyeing Lorcan. They had been at this for days. Her outfit was chafing, she was tired of being on the road, and she just wanted to find Aelin Galathynius already so that she wouldn’t have to spend any more time around the tall hunk of brooding fae she’d been stuck with.

Meanwhile, Lorcan pretended not to notice that Elide was eating the angriest meal someone had ever eaten.

It’s not as if he didn’t know what was going on. He’d seen Elide watching the dark-haired woman ever since they had met up with the troupe. Of course she would be attracted to her. The way the woman was laughing with the others and returning appreciative glances Elide’s way, he wondered if Elide didn’t regret their married ruse.

Elide, for her part, was tired of traveling with all of these people when she was used to spending her days in solitude, avoiding the notice of witches and wyverns and slimy relatives. And if all that wasn’t enough, the way that that woman looked at Lorcan was too much. She actually had the gall to stare at a married man, Elide though angrily. Well, he wasn’t really married. But that wasn’t the point! Everyone thought she and Lorcan were married, and so it was hardly appropriate for that woman to be making eyes at him all the time.

When Elide finished eating, she stood to take her bowl to the area they were using to clean, but Lorcan reached up for it.

“No thanks, I’ve got it.” Elide tried to walk around him, but he put an arm out, blocking her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

He wasn’t one to ask her a lot of questions, so she tried to brush him off. “I’m tired.” She walked forward, into his arm, but he refused to move. “What do you want, Lorcan?”

“To know what’s bothering you.” He just wanted to hear her say the words out loud. It was a small amount of satisfaction he’d get, really, but they were in short supply of that lately.

“Nothing,” Elide snapped. A surge of laughter came from the other end of camp, and Elide clenched her free hand.

“Do you think I’d get in trouble if I kick that person?” She tilted her head towards the woman, which confused Lorcan to no end. Why would she want to kick a woman she was attracted to?

“Just don’t,” Lorcan said.

“Why not?” Elide crossed her arms. “Don’t think I’d get away with it?”

“Oh, I know you would.”

“Then why?” Elide wanted to stick her tongue out at Lorcan, so godsdamned much.

“Because being so small and pretty, she’d barely notice and just think it was cute. Plus, I’m not sure why you’d want to kick her when I’m sure there are other ways you’d rather spend your time together.”

“That’s not a reason.” Elide glanced back over at the woman. She was laughing at what someone else had said, her waves of thick, dark hair falling beguilingly over her shoulder.

“Elide, did you hear what I said?” He brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone.

“You said I’m small.” She batted him away, keeping her eyes on the others.

Lorcan waited.

Elide blinked. “You said I’m pretty. And you said… why exactly do you think I want to spend time with her?”

“For the reasons that, as man and wife, everyone thinks we want to spend together.”

Elide started. “You think… you think I’m jealous of her?”

Lorcan nodded once. “Yes.”

“But because I like her? That’s why you think I’m annoyed right now?”

“Well, yeah,” Lorcan said. “Why else would you stare at her like you do?”

Elide laughed. She handed Lorcan her bowl and laughed so hard that she had to clutch her stomach, and then it was her that everyone in the camp was looking at.

“Lorcan, the next time you ever act like your centuries of experience make you superior, please remind me of this.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dorian wakes to footsteps on the marble floor of his bedroom. No one comes here this time of night. Not his guards, not his friends.

Chaol suggested, ages ago, that he take out the rugs. Sure, they are comforting. But they also stifle noise, help to hide intruders.

Now, Dorian is glad for the advice. Whoever is in his room isn’t confident, but they aren’t trying to hide either. Stealth might have implied nefarious designs. Confidence might have suggested boldness, a disrespect for his position.

This is something else entirely.

He feels the shape and presence of someone, hesitant, watching him. Whoever it is, they make him on edge. But they don’t make him afraid.

Manon slips into his bed, curling to face him, waiting for him to speak.

“It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?” he asks. It feels wrong, breaking the silence between them. This is something he should be able to read, to interpret.

She moves closer to him, so close he can feel her breath on his face. “I wanted to see you.”

Dorian shifts so that he is more able to see her. Manon’s white hair is in a messy braid, looks as if she has been in bed tossing and turning. The black silk shift she apparently wears to bed is sliding down one shoulder, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

He waits.

Manon watches his face, searching for a reaction. Will he throw her out? Want to fuck her? Hit her? She hopes he doesn’t pity her. Anything but that.

Dorian reaches up and readjusts the strap of her nightgown, putting it back in place. “Do you want to stay?”

Manon holds her breath, waits.

“Yes.”

Dorian watches Manon fall to sleep. He doesn’t reach out and touch her. He doesn’t say another word. Her breath slows. He counts it as a victory.


	9. Rowaelin - sorry you got hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I’m sorry you got hurt.” “You tripped me!” “Well I’m still sorry.”
> 
> Post-KoA when we assume that everything is just fine! Aelin and Rowan train their daughter to fight.

Aelin wiped sweat from her brow, squinting in an attempt to keep out the glare of the mid-day sun. She hadn’t trained like this in years. It hadn’t seemed necessary, not when threats in the world were fewer and farther between. 

Aelin adjusted her leather vest, and reached up to re-plait her braid. 

It was ages ago that she and Rowan had trained together and he had shown her how to use her magic, how to hone it to the edge of a weapon. What had been an antagonistic relationship grew into something like home, and Aelin thought about later that day, when it would be just the two of them, alone in their chambers. It had been a gift she never thought to ask for, reaching for his hand on the battlefield and finding an anchor. 

A wave of nostalgia came over Aelin as she looked at her daughter, the obvious lack of balance, the way she held her sword as if she had gained a new, unexpected limb. 

At Marion’s age, Aelin had taken her first victim. She had worked to scrape a living off the streets, had her hand broken by Arobynn, been groomed by him to think that the world would never accept the princess who had run from her throne.

Aelin wouldn’t say that Marion was the opposite of herself at that age - it would hardly do to have the new heir of Terrasen ignorant of the ways of the world - but she’d never had to defend her life from any number of men and thieves and fae who would just as soon see her in an early grave. No, Marion’s clothing, though mussed, was clean. It was made from fine material, she would walk back to the castle to find a table laden with food, and she would go to bed comfortable. Though hopefully not by the fireplace, reading whatever Dorian had recently sent her.

Aelin shook off the past. Rowan stood to the side watching them, and she threw him a small smile.

“You need to work on your balance,” she said to Marion. “If you don’t, anyone will be able to knock you off center. Try again.”

Marion sighed, a uniquely adolescent sound that Aelin recognized from her own youth. “I’m tired. Can we do this tomorrow?”

Aelin couldn’t blame Marion for not understanding the urgency in needing to know how to attack, not when she’d never even had to defend herself.

Rowan stepped forward, gesturing for Marion’s sword. “Here, let me show you.”

Their fair-haired daughter handed him the weapon, looking warily back and forth between them. Finding a place against a short stone wall, she leaned against it and watched Rowan and Aelin spar.

Rowan looked over to Marion. “You have to strengthen your core, be careful of your stance. Like this, see?” He waited for her to nod in acknowledgement before looking to Aelin and indicating that he was ready.

Aelin looked her mate and husband up and down before she got into position. She’d recently noticed thin lines around his eyes, signs that he was finally showing age. Another gift she never knew to ask for.

“En garde,” Aelin said, holding up her weapon.

“ _En garde?_ ” Rowan said mockingly. “Do you think anyone who is going to attack our daughter will give her fair warning or play by any rules?” He moved the sword in his hand, testing its weight and balance.

“Shut up and fight me then,” she answered.

Without warning, Rowan attacked. They fell into a familiar dance, one that got Aelin’s pulse racing in excitement. 

This. This was what she had missed. Sitting behind a desk or on a throne always felt like being tethered to her life. But outdoors, in the sunshine, moving and feeling every limb, beads of sweat run down her back from the effort, pushing herself to her limit… This was where she belonged.

Aelin and Rowan became engrossed in their fight, unaware that Marion was leaning forward, watching them intently. They would have been proud at how earnest she was about learning from them, if they had noticed.

They turned circles around one another, thrusting and parrying and slashing the air. They wore matching grins, and the intimacy of the moment made Marion wonder if she should slip away.

Without warning, Rowan was on his back with a grunt and Aelin was on him, one knee on his chest, the other holding his sword arm down, and the edge of her blade against his throat.

“Yield?”

“Never.”

“Too bad.” Aelin stood, reaching a hand down to help him to his feet. 

Rowan took her hand without complaint. As he picked himself off the ground, he groaned, grabbing his ribs. “I think you bruised me.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Aelin said.

“You tripped me!” Rowan exclaimed.

“Well I’m still sorry.” Aelin grinned. She threw her arm around Rowan’s neck. “Do you need me to help you inside?” She took his sword and handed it to Marion.

Rowan made to push her away, half-hearted in his attempt. “Get off.”

Rowan gave Aelin a kiss on the cheek before she strode off to talk to Marion, giving her tips about what to do when certain fae warriors showed themselves to be sore losers.


End file.
